Oh How I Wish I Had His Art
Oh how I wish I had his Art!
I am two fools I know: one for loving you,
And one for not letting go;
When you draw away, and abandon me.
When all is said and Donne,
We are but simple fools; who in self denying
Verse, lament our state and wish we were
Otherwise, and in the sun,
Of intimate love.
Though none set my words to lilting voice,
Nor sing my hurt to salve my wounds.
Yet in indulgent penning of these words,
I relieve my grief and find solace in
Public pronouncement of my inner
Sadness and despair.
Your silence speaks with more finality
Than I wish to hear.
And I am Donne.
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